


F O L L I A   A   D U E;

by aecid



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Asylum, Criminally insane, M/M, Might contain smut, Murder, Murderers, On the Run, criminals, escaping, killers, on the road
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 20:14:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aecid/pseuds/aecid
Summary: "god can't save any of us because it's inelegant. elegance is more important than suffering. that's his design."-or in which two inmates of a mental institution for the criminally insane decide to escape just for the sweet, sweet sake of it. | ©2019





	1. !s t a r t¡

!PLAYLIST¡

_-"say, can you hear" by men i trust;_   
_-"sunday driver" by the raconteurs;_   
_-"i bet you look good on the dance floor" by arctic monkeys;_   
_-"rose" by allan rayman;_   
_-"peach" by allan rayman;_   
_-"crush" by allan rayman;_   
_-"breezeblocks" by alt-j;_   
_-"long silent" by mounika.;_   
_-"pumped up kicks" by foster the people;_   
_-"people are strange" by echo & the bunnymen;_   
_-"bigmouth strikes again" by the smiths;_   
_-"i can talk" by two door cinema club;_   
_-"robbers" by the 1975;_   
_-"antichrist" by the 1975;_   
_-"crimewave" by crystal castles;_   
_-"play god" by sam fender;_   
_-"who are you, really?" by mikky ekko;_   
_-"figure it out" by royal blood;_   
_-"cradles" by sub urban;_   
_-"sunset lover" by petit biscuit;_   
_-"bitch" by allie x;_   
_-"extraordinary rendition" by sons of an illustrious father;_   
_-"nails for breakfast, tacks for snacks" by panic!at the disco;_   
_-"fuck with myself" by banks;_   
_-"body talks" by the struts;_   
_-"swim" by chase atlantic;_   
_-"guillotine" by jon bellion;_   
_-"bad guy" by billie eilish;_   
_-"all the good girls go to hell" by billie eilish;_   
_-"my strange addiction" by billie eilish;_   
_-"ilomilo" by billie eilish;_   
_-"serial killer" by lana del rey;_   
_-"alleyways" by the neighbourhood;_   
_-"don't you know" by jaymes young;_   
_-"myself" by bazzi;_   
_-"nothing at all" by brandyn burnette;_   
_-"creep" by radiohead;_   
_-"karma police" by radiohead;_   
_-"paranoid android" by radiohead;_   
_(more to be added)_

!INFOS¡

_-this is an au of the nbc's tv series "hannibal" in which will graham and hannibal lecter are both inmates at the baltimore state hospital for the criminally insane. for this fanfiction's purposes i made them a little bit younger so hannibal is 32 and will is 28._   
_-i don't own any of hannibal's characters, they belong to their rightful owners. this book was written only for fanfiction purposes._

!DISCLAIMER¡

_i am by no means romanticising mental illness, cannibalism, criminal behaviour and such so please, don't come at me._

_that being said, i hope you'll enjoy this._

🔪


	2. !p a r t   o n e¡

_"if you can't beat god, become him." 🔪_


	3. .I.

**_[TRACK ONE:_ **

**_"say can you hear?"_ **

**_-men i trust.]_ **

 

 

 

blue, burning cold and freezing warmth, the sight of hundreds of shadowy figures behind closed eyelids as flesh and bones and the world all around swirled and swirled on the sophisticated notes of a "larghetto affettuoso".

 

_sarà ancora come la lasciai, la mia cara italia? ancora polvere sulle strade, ancora truffe al forestiero?_

 

'patient 66.'

 

the water had a weird effect on him, especially when it came out of a broken shower head as if it was blood coming out of a gash that affected an artery, steady jets right on his face and even if an outsider would've labelled it as not enough to clean a man-in-his-early-thirties's body, he somehow managed to get all nice and wet and elegantly scrubbed.

 

'patient 66!'

 

the water had a weird effect on him indeed.

 

'patient 66,' cold bit his nude epidermis with gentle fangs and lapped him as a dog would do with his master's hand carrying a titbit 'your twenty minutes are up.'

 

_non sai forse che faresti meglio a guardarti dal toccar animal ferito?_

 

'please, make one step back from the showers and stay still or else you'll be sedated.'

 

one step back. his feet against a smooth tile floor of the most painful of rust sprinkled whites inspired symphonies of broken bones and sweet cherry syrup on his hands and tongue while two wardens and an armed supervisor clothed in plane grey uniforms dried and dressed him up in a dark blue suit that didn't make him any less tedious than the rest of the building.

 

_guardate il mostro di firenze, lo squartatore di chesapeake, domato e ammaestrato come il più mansueto degli animali domestici._

 

he winced, the sharp curve of his cupid's bow lips twisting in an expression of total disgust as his tongue darted out of its sinful hiding spot to lick the left corner of his mouth, an intentionally slow lap, and his hands sank as far as they could in his dark blue pockets.

 

_affonderei i miei denti nella vostra carne e vi libererei della vostra pelle mortale. chissà di che colore è la sinfonia delle vostre urla._

 

and just as the wardens proceeded to drag him out, the armed supervisor walking rigidly right behind them, of that chlorine stained place his eardrums and back were pierced by the sheer trill of a soprano's high c as only a pair of light eyes could ever do.

 

🚬

 

patient 66 surely lacked a lot of things, but that wasn't the case with money and a noble title that sticked to his surname like chocolate would stick to a toddler's chubby little fingers and cherubic cheeks. and since in a world of sleepy gods and self-made monsters wealth seemed to be the only thing that kept everything going he had managed to get the nicest of cells, a really big one with expensive and pretty mobilia, a toilet, a soft bed and a bullet proof glass that kept him secluded from the three locked doors that separated him from the outside world. he had also managed to have the privilege to keep his books in a nice bookshelf and paper with pencils so he could draw and keep the fear of indigency far away from him ever since he had played his lucky card as a poker master and plead mental instability in the court room. which had saved him from the electric chair for the time being too so it had been a fair bargain after all.

 

however all he could think of now, as his bony pianist-like fingers dragged a perfectly sharpened pencil (sharpened by an eye rolling warden after the patient's polite request because someone must've been a fool to trust a psychopath near sharp objects such as a pencil sharpener, even if said psychopath was well-spoken and had the looks of a million dollar man) along the white emptiness of a paper as he would drag a bodybag down the stairs to his basement, was the sheer trill of a soprano's high c he had heard earlier in the showers. it was pretty much a given that he couldn't help but be curious about whose eyes had had the courage to pierce him so fiercely, it must've been someone relatively knew because patient 66, after four years of tediousness, had learned by heart the symphony of each pair of eyes that lodged their troubled existence inside that institute with sad, sad resignation, whether it was a patient or a warden. and because everyone knew better than to stare at him in such a way.

 

_vorrei tanto poter mettere su carta la tua sinfonia. disegnarla con le tue ossa e con il tuo sangue._

 

his dreams of graphite figurines, bones, cherry syrup and light, light piercing eyes were interrupted by the sound of his door opening and the entrance of two wardens and an armed supervisor in his pretty cell. it was funny how whenever they had to bring him somewhere, even if it was only a trip to the cafeteria or the showers, an armed supervisor was always after him as if he was going to make a foolish move and try something, he wasn't going to escape. not yet anyway.

he still remembered the day those men had brought him in his prison, all wrapped up as if he was a christmas gift in a straitjacket and a plastic muzzle to prevent him from biting, not that a warden had learned that at his own risk, and carried around in a luggage carrier trolley because he was unable to walk tied up like that. it had been the first time he felt ashamed in years as the other patients' orbs made him desire to rip his skin off of himself while they looked at him with a mixture of mockery and reverence because they had never seen someone restrained in such a violent way.

 

the cafeteria was dreary as the rest of that damned building with rare cases of patients who were crazy for real putting up a scene and breaking that spell of monotony. patient 66 missed the days in which he used to eat by himself in his cell, the first days of his permanence when he was still deemed too dangerous to stay with the others, but as he was bracing himself to sit as far away as possible from the everyone else that same soprano's high c trilled in his cranium and he turned around, head slightly tilted upwards as an animal tracking the scent of his prey, he moved, careful and slow, and as the soprano's high c turned into an "andante" he opened his eyes to find himself in front of a young man with teddy bear soft, long curls, a growing stubble and a set of eyes so unstable that even their colour danced between green and blue. he had far too feminine features, someone could've easily exchanged him for a girl if only he didn't have that stubble. no one was sitting near him so patient 66 decided to occupy the chair across the cherubic man, without asking any kind of permission, after all they were both locked up in a mental institution for the criminally insane and asking permission was the last thing they would ever think about. the rose and yellow velvety colours of a up to the minute found pleasure started to sprout in his cartilages because he saw the potential of a new plaything in that young man, even if said man didn't quite look like someone who was willing to be played around for he had a harsh, almost wild aura around him that resonated like a pan's flute trembling note all around the room.

 

'good morning,' patient 66 said in the most polite way he could manage 'or should i say evening. i think i lost the sense of time after a week of setting foot in here.' he continued with a low chuckle.

 

the man, whose number was 33 he noticed, and almost laughed at it (siamo per caso le due facciate della stessa medaglia?), after a quick glance at his chest where the figures were printed in white on the dark blue suit, didn't show any sign of desiring a conversation with the dangerous man sat across him and pursued on nibbling at his piece of bread, but his eyes were still fixed on him and pierced his chest from one side to the other, like a bullet. he almost had the instinct to turn around and check if his lungs and heart were splattered on the floor behind him.

 

'non sei un uomo di grandi parole, uh? you don't talk much.'

 

patient 33 kept on looking at patient 66's chest and nibbling his piece of bread, it was starting to piss the latter off. he kept his composure, though, because patience was the first virtue he learned at age 5.

 

'not quite fond of eye contact either, are you?'

 

'eyes are distracting you see too much, you don't see enough.' he loved the green-brownish colour that cherubic man had in his voice, he loved how it sounded different from the others', he loved how it sounded clever, how it sounded like that of whom he would call an equal. 'and, and it's hard to focus when you're thinking, uhm... "oh, those whites are really white" or "he must have hepatitis" or "oh, is that a burst vein?" so, yeah, i try to avoid eyes whenever possible.'

_mi parleresti così anche se ti stessi facendo a pezzi? se ti stessi sbriciolando la spina dorsale per farne sabbia?_

 

he flashed the sickening sweetest candy cane smile and extended his hand for the man sitting across him to shake.

 

'i'm lecter,' a pause, the feeling of cold, white china fingers wrapping around his bony hand 'hannibal lecter.'

 

that pair of unstable eyes finally lifted up to rest against patient 66's orbs.

 

'graham. will graham.'

 

a shudder, the shiver of the same note playing from two different instruments striking at the same time, two similar minds linking together as pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

 

_oh che piacere sarà per me banchettare sulle tue carni._

 

🚬

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, i know how annoying authors’ notes might be so i’m going to be concise: thanks to whoever started reading this, what do you think about it so far?


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